Famished
by La Caterina
Summary: The Sheriff wants grain in a time of famine, Guy wants power and revenge, and Catrine wants a child... and revenge for her banishment too. Against the Sheriff for once, Guy and Catrine seek to take what the Sheriff wants. Steamy, romantic and adventurous.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note- One more story for Guy and Catrine. This story takes place during Catrine's banishment from the castle, and is also consequently the fall before Guy leaves for his mission in the Holy Land in the spring. Thank you to my reviewers who gave me the idea to depict more of a family life for the happy (and steamy) couple. _

_Please R&R! And enjoy!_

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The soft, late autumn, morning breeze blew through the bedroom window of Locksley Manor, and Catrine took a deep breath of the cool, fresh air. Placing her hands on her lower stomach, she felt the flatness, the emptiness within her, and closed her eyes. She squeezed her legs tighter together and felt slickness between her thighs. Catrine loved that feeling. Maybe, she thought, things would change for her this month if she laid like this for a while.

Guy's footsteps echoed through the bedroom, and the sounds of metal clinking and leather scuffing right above her made Catrine open her eyes once more. With a chuckle, Guy smiled down at her, his leather jacket hanging open on his broad shoulders. "My wife's already tired out before she's even started her day. And only after her morning's dose of love, too," his deep voice chuckled in his chest as he bent down, placing a kiss on Catrine's cheek.

With half a smile, Catrine gently pushed Guy away from her face, "My day, what day? What do I have left to do now that the Sheriff has banished me from the castle? I only have to endure one more month of this exile to Locksley."

Guy began hooking the claps of his jacket, "Surely it's not all that terrible, running the manor on your own, and then," his grey eyes left his jacket and turned to Catrine, mischief gleaming in his look, "welcoming me home with open arms."

Catrine sniffed, "Open legs you mean," she muttered almost inaudibly under her breath. She saw Guy cock his head in confusion and continued quickly, "What infuriates me, Guy, is that the Sheriff knows I have brilliant plans. And now more than ever, the entirety of Nottinghamshire needs a brilliant plan. This is the worst famine to hit these lands, almost all the crops have failed, and if we don't do something now, everyone will be famished for the entire winter to come." She crossed her legs tighter at the knee, "But does the Sheriff see fit to let me help? Of course not."

Folding her arms over her breasts, Catrine felt tears beginning to annoy her eyes, "Instead, he plots to take my husband from me within the year and cast him into the sands of the Holy Land." Her breath caught in her throat, barely allowing her to speak the last two words.

Guy stopped fiddling with his straps and adjusting his belts immediately. He moved beside her on the bed and knelt down at the edge. "Catrine," his deep voice no more than a whisper, "You can't worry about that yet," his hand stroked her soft cheek as he leaned in to kiss her once more. "Even I'm not worried about that yet," he added, but still Catrine looked only up at the bedroom ceiling, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. Guy sighed. "I'll tell you what, my love," he began as he gently turned her head to face him, "I will ask the Sheriff today to lift your banishment." Catrine's eyes sprang open wide in shock. "Now, how does that sound?" Guy added, chuckling at his wife's obvious excitement.

Catrine stared at him questioningly, "Do you mean it?" her voice and her gaze suddenly serious.

"Yes," Guy replied. "For your sake, I will ask. But," he said, raising his eyebrow teasingly, "in the mean time, I'd love for my clever wife to try and save Locksley from famine too."

"Of course, my lord," Catrine chuckled, stroking his rough cheek. "Now you'd better go. I don't want the Sheriff to blame me for making you late."

Guy chuckled and pecked Catrine quickly on the lips before standing up. He looked down at his wife, her naked figure outlined beneath one thin white sheet. A mischievous smile began to tug at his lips. "You know, the Sheriff could even go so far as to banish you for one more month if I'm late," he smirked, and sat himself down on the bed beside her, his hands began to pull the sheet away from her smooth, pale shoulders.

"Guy, you wouldn't dare!" Catrine yelled, trying to fend off his hands from her.

Laughing, Guy stood up, "I'll go, I'll go. I don't want to return to an angry wife, now do I?"

"Ha! Not if you expect open… arms," Catrine replied, laying her head back down with a huff.

Guy chuckled and walked to the door, "Goodbye, my love."

"Goodbye," Catrine said as she still looked up towards the ceiling, waving her arm delicately above her head as she heard the door close.

Alone, Catrine lowered her arm behind her head and grabbed the pillow, pulling it out from under her and placing it under her hips. She crossed her legs tighter together, praying that this would be the month. This month, Catrine did not want to get her course of blood; this month, she wanted to create life; and this month, she wanted to give Guy an extra reason to return from the Holy Land. She wanted a child, a little Gisborne, for her own sake and for Guy's. For almost three years, nothing had happened, three years for which Catrine felt biting shame as a wife. Each month when her course would come, she saw the traces of disappointment in Guy's eyes, the same traces of disappointment she knew were in her own as well.

But now, she was determined, convinced that this was her chance, this was her month, to finally become a wife and a mother. Catrine lifted her hips higher on the pillow beneath her, and she could almost feel his liquids running deeper into her. Closing her eyes, Catrine tried to fall back asleep.

After a few moments, sounds of village activity began pouring from the bedroom window. Finally, the noises of horses and carts grew too loud, and Catrine opened her eyes, frustrated at the beginning of her day already.

Women's voice carried through the window on the crisp fall wind, "Sarah! Bring yer cloths over 'ere. I need to lay out me herbs."

"Right away Matilda!" a young voice shouted back.

Catrine jolted where she lay in bed. "Matilda, the midwife?" she spoke softly to herself, her hands clutching tighter on her stomach. Her mind raced at the thought: a midwife could help her, could inspect her, could figure out exactly what was wrong with her. With a sigh, Catrine swung her legs off the side of the bed and stood up, feeling semen trickle down her legs to the floor. She shrugged and grabbed her robe from nearby the bed, walking over to the window to look out at this woman.

Slowly lifting the curtain from the open window, Catrine peered out at the cottages below, the large, dark-haired woman bustling back and forth from her cart into the closest house, her arms laden with baskets and jars. Matilda must be paying a visit to the young couple there. Catrine's hand gripped the wooden bar of the window, her knuckles paling from her tight grasp. She felt her nostrils flare in anger, sneering at the thought of a young peasant bearing a child. But not her.

Catrine tossed her hair with a flick of her head. She was a noble, and she did not need help. No crawling to a strange, mysterious old hag, no unknown herbs and foreign remedies for her. Spinning around towards the closet, Catrine began to dress herself, praying that a baby would soon begin to grow within her.


	2. Chapter 2

"How hard can it be to find the Sheriff in his own castle?" Guy asked himself as he sprinted from the Great Hall. Pausing in the hallway, he debated where to look next: double back to the Sheriff's quarters again? The dungeons? His own quarters? He shook his head in agitation. Perhaps the captain of the castle guard would know, Guy thought as he began striding towards the guards' quarters deep in the bowels of Nottingham Castle.

Captain Thomas Atwood had only been working at the castle for a week, but the young, foolish boy was blatantly chomping at the bit for power and opportunities. Not to mention he idolized Guy, praising him for every decision, every order he issued. Guy shook his head as he pictured the short youth, his pudgy face barely able to grow facial hair eagerly smiling up at Guy, obeying his every order to the letter. He did not understand why the Sheriff appointed him to captain of the guard, out of all the recent recruits. Perhaps because he was the easiest to control and manipulate, the most obviously devout and loyal. In any case, Guy didn't care, so long as Captain Atwood did as he was told.

Guy weaved his way through the castle corridors, finally stopping outside the door to the guards' quarters. Raising his fist to knock on the thick wooden panels, Guy paused. The Sheriff's voice distinctly echoed on the other side.

"No, Atwood. You cannot tell Gisborne about this. This is… _your…_ secret mission," the Sheriff's voice heavily articulated in anger.

Guy stopped breathing, freezing just outside the door. A scowl began to cross his taut face.

"But, my lord Sheriff," Captain Atwood's distinct tenor voice interjected, "I don't think I'm ready for any mission of this sort of… finesse."

The Sheriff laughed, "There's nothing quite like trial by fire, now is there Atwood. This is your big chance, so don't go running to Gisborne about it. You see, he has this nasty habit of _talking_ with his wife, telling her all about his life and consequently mine."

"Sir Guy has a wife?" Atwood's voice even higher pitched with excitement.

Guy heard the Sheriff scoff, "Ha! Yes, a mistake I don't want to see you make too, Atwood. But that is besides the point. This mission is keenly important to a comfortable winter for Nottingham, well actually… for me. And you cannot fail me."

Guy heard something heavy clatter to the ground. "Look at me when I'm talking, Gisborne… I mean… Atwood!" the Sheriff shouted.

Covering his mouth with his gloved fist, Guy silenced the laugh inside him.

The Sheriff's footsteps moved away from the door, "You cannot be late tonight, leaving the castle promptly by midnight. Sister Agatha's is a good two hours away by cart, and you will need total cover of darkness to hide you on your way back, so no dallying. Do you understand me, Atwood?"

"Yes, my lord," Atwood spoke as a chair scraped against the stone floor.

Remembering himself, Guy quickly and silently walked off a few paces as he heard the footfalls grow louder towards the door. He tried to make as much noise as would be normal, his boots clacking on the floor. Then, he had an idea, "Atwood! Have you seen the Sheriff? Captain Atwood!" Guy called down the hallway, pleased at himself for his own ruse.

He walked up to the quarters again, this time bringing his knuckles down against the wood, knocking on the door. Captain Atwood's pudgy face smiled up at Guy, as was his custom, opening the door just a few inches.

"Sir Guy! How are you doing?" Atwood's voice shook, no doubt from anxiety, thought Guy.

Guy folded his arms staring down at the youth, tightening his face into his most intimidating glare, "I am looking for the Sheriff. Have you seen him, Captain?"

The Sheriff's balding head appeared over Atwood's shoulder, his face long and innocent as he looked back towards Guy. "Missed me, Gisborne?" he asked sweetly.

A glower was the only answered the Sheriff received. "I've searched the whole castle for you, what are you doing here, my lord?"

"Just thought I'd come down and… get to know our young captain a bit better, hmm. The Sheriff pushed Atwood out of the way of the door and walked past him into the corridor. He spun around, clapped his hands behind his back, and met Guy's cold stare, "How's your wife, Gisborne?" he asked before walking off down the hall.

"Well, enough," Guy answered as he fell in step beside the Sheriff. "Now, what plans do you have for the winter's food storage? Surely there must be some way to…"

"This famine is no concern of mine," the Sheriff interrupted with a wave of his hand. "When the people get hungry enough, they will find their own ways to fill their empty bellies. All this means for us, Gisborne, is that tax collecting this month will be ruthless and unmerciful. But that is not a challenge for you, is it?" The Sheriff paused outside the door to his own quarters, turning to face Guy.

"My lord, if the people cannot eat, how do you expect them to pay their taxes?" Guy asked, shaking his head partially in disbelief, partially in anger.

"I leave that up to the lords of the manors, like you. And what's the matter with you, growing soft, Gisborne? Too much time at home with your wife must be positively draining on your manhood," the Sheriff's gaze narrowed as he stared Guy up and down.

Guy rolled his eyes, "If you do not require my services today, Sheriff, then I would desire nothing more to return to Locksley."

The Sheriff smirked in return, shooing Guy away with his hands, "Be gone, then. Go play house with your wife, or whatever it is that you two do together. I do not need you to nag _me_ every which way today. You and your charming wife are quite the pair, constantly nagging and looking over my shoulder. And sometimes… I think you forget which one of us is really the sheriff." He turned around, walking into his chambers and shutting the door with an echoing slam.

Guy stormed off, huffing and fuming at the Sheriff. He insulted his power, he insulted his loyalty, and mostly, he insulted his wife. Why shouldn't he tell his wife about the Sheriff's plans? She'd know precisely what the Sheriff was plotting to do, that was her special ability. And trusting that boy with a mission, ordering Atwood to keep him deliberately in the dark. He felt his lip curling into a sneer just thinking about the Sheriff and his undermining, backhanded ways.

"Sir Guy!" a young, breathless voice called out after Guy from down the hall. Guy paused and turned around, watching as Captain Atwood's figure ran closer and closer towards him. Taking a deep breath, Guy felt his face relaxing into a smile; maybe Atwood would be coming to confess the whole plot to him, right now.

Captain Atwood stopped a few feet in front of Guy, bending almost in half trying to catch his breath. "Sir Guy," he repeated breathlessly. "The Sheriff…" he continued to pant as he straightened up.

"Well?" Guy asked, glaring down at the youth with a cold smirk on his face, "What did the Sheriff say?" He couldn't make it any easier on this boy, Guy thought.

Atwood removed his helmet from his head, tussling the loose light brown curls all damp with sweat. "Sir Guy," he continued once more, "The Sheriff wanted me to remind you that the torturers are a whole month behind in their pay. And that you need to remind the stable boys that his white mare cannot be fed hay now for the rest of the month." Atwood smiled up at Guy, nodding his head as if to signify the end of his message.

Guy paused and shot him a questioning glare, "Is that all?"

Atwood's hazel eyes focused down at the metal helmet in his hands, "Yes, Sir Guy, that is all."

"Are you sure?" he asked, leaning down closer to Atwood's round face.

"Well…" Atwood began timidly, still fixated on his helmet. "There is one more thing, Sir Guy." He looked up, meeting Guy's stare, and Guy was shocked at the gleam of confidence he found, "I just wanted to thank you for all your leadership and guidance. It's been hard to make my way here as the new captain." He smiled again, his pudgy cheeks pulling back to reveal a set of perfect white teeth, "You've been a real inspiration to me, sir."

Steely grey eyes narrowed in response, and Guy clenched his fists, fighting back the rising urge to punch out his shinning white teeth. Spinning on his heel, Guy stormed off once more for the stables. He couldn't give a damn whether the torturers were paid or if that stupid white horse ate hay or not. Guy had to get home, get away from the insult, and get away from the Sheriff.


	3. Chapter 3

Now Catrine understood why so many women embroidered everything around the house. There was simply nothing else to do.

She laid the piece of yellow fabric across her knee, the Gisborne crest half-finished in the lower corner. Sighing, Catrine turned in her chair in front of the fireplace and looked out the window at the activity outside. With Locksley's wheat fields dying and all other crops withering, Catrine had racked her brain to think of a solution for winter. What little grain was left would be rationed, of course, but most would serve to feed the cattle. Almost all the beasts would soon be slaughtered and their meat salted. But that was the best answer Catrine could think of. Without any other help, it would be a hard, cold, and hungry winter.

She began to stitch the black thread through the cloth once more, concentrating on the fine point of the bone needle as she traced the thread around the crest's edge.

Suddenly, the thundering of hoof beats echoed through the manor, startling Catrine who pricked her finger in surprise, blood slightly soaking the fabric on her lap. "Damn," Catrine mumbled and began to suck on her wounded finger, looking at the bright red stain now on her needlework.

The manor door flew open, and Guy stormed in, his rage almost palpable as he unbuckled his belt, throwing the strap and the scabbard on the wooden table. He reached for the canter of wine and poured himself a brimming goblet, draining it all in one draught. The empty pewter cup clanked against the table as Guy roughly set it down, leaning over with both of his clenched, leather-gloved fists bracing him against the tabletop.

"You're back so early, what happened?" Catrine asked, removing her bleeding finger from her mouth.

Guy turned his head to face her sitting by the fire. His glaring eyes narrowed in blazing anger. Unable to describe his day thus far, his fury choked all words within him.

"Oh wait… you need your welcoming..." Catrine smirked as she gathered the cloth from her lap, standing up from her seat and walking towards Guy. She clutched the trailing yellow cloth in one hand, "Welcome home, my love," she said cheerily, crossing the distance between her and Guy with her arms widespread. The hardness in his gaze softened, and Guy smirked in reply as he straightened up from the table.

Walking closer, Catrine presented her handiwork, "You see, husband, I have been an ever so diligent wife in your absence." Guy took the cloth in his hand, laughing once as he examined the half-finished Gisborne crest covered partially in blood. He smiled and set the cloth down on the table. Catrine took the opportunity to wrap her arms around Guy's waist, "Now, tell me, what has set my love on this rampage of anger, hmm? What has that nasty sheriff done this time?"

Guy turned in her arms and huffed, craning his neck back as he felt his frustrations rise up within him again. "Well, apparently, the Sheriff has a plan to feed Nottingham Castle for the winter. Not the shire, not the villages. Just the castle," he said, stepping away from her arms.

"And? What is his plan, Guy?" Catrine asked, resting her hands on her hips.

"I don't know, Catrine," Guy's voice lowering into a growl, his teeth clenched as he spoke, "The Sheriff won't say. Some secret mission he assigned to Captain Atwood. _Not_ me."

Catrine cocked her head questioningly, "How did you find out about this then?"

"I overheard it all from the guards' quarters. Sheriff said that Atwood would be responsible for some mission tonight, saying that I couldn't be trusted because…" his husky voice trailed off as he looked at Catrine.

"Because of what, Guy?" she asked straightly.

"Because he knew I would tell you about the mission, because he thinks we assume too much power instead of him as sheriff. There are a million reasons, Catrine. But the point is he's undermining me, ignoring me, leaving me in the dark. And I just won't stand for it." With one loud grunt, Guy kicked over the nearest chair, sending it bouncing across the floor with resounding clatters.

Catrine sighed, "Guy," she whispered, bringing her hand to rest on his stubbled cheek. "If you want my help, you need to tell me everything you heard," she continued as she gently turned his head towards her. "Now, _do you_ want my help?"

He looked into her deep brown eyes, "Yes," he replied, and he folded his arms over his chest as he remembered the words echoing through the thick wooden door. "The Sheriff ordered Atwood to leave the castle at midnight… to go to Sister Agatha's… which was a good two hours away by cart… and that he would need total darkness to hide himself in," Guy recited.

Catrine nodded her head, patted Guy's cheek once, and stepped away from him, looking down to the floor and slowly running her fingers through her hair. "Hmm," she murmured, lost in thought, "The Sheriff is obviously planning some sort of raid or secret exchange of goods… hence the cart and the darkness… but I don't quite see why the Sheriff would be so interested in Sister Agatha's…"

"What is Sister Agatha's even?" Guy asked, staring at his wife.

"Sister Agatha runs an orphanage just outside of the village of Klun… about two hours ride from Nottingham which follows logically. But I don't know why the Sheriff would intend to make some sort of transaction there." Catrine looked up from the floor, meeting Guy's concerned gaze. "What would the Sheriff want that only an orphanage would have?"

Guy began to open his mouth, shaking his head, "Nothing… nothing that I can think of."

Catrine's eyes squinted closed as she thought, her hand coming to rest around her mouth. "It must be something important, and something incredibly secret or shameful if he can't even tell either of us about it." She straightened up with a crooked smirk on her face, flicking back the hair that had fallen over her shoulder. "In either case, Guy, I do believe this appears to be a chance for revenge, for both of us. If the Sheriff believes the answer to his famine crisis for the castle lies at Sister Agatha's orphanage, then why not take it for ourselves… and for Locksley of course," her eyes began to glint up at Guy.

"You're proposing to work against the Sheriff?" Guy's eyes widened in shock once he realized the extent of Catrine's suggestion.

Catrine chuckled, "If the Sheriff is selfish enough to ignore his lieutenant to ensure his own comfort, then why not? This is an insult, Guy, and it must be accounted for. Do it for yourself, for all the times he has spat in your face, insulted your pride, and spurned your wife." She stepped closer to Guy, running her hands up his arms, "Or if not for yourself, do it for Locksley, as lord of the manor," her hands gently touched his face, tracing and knotting her fingers into his dark hair, "Or… if not for Locksley… then do it for me," she whispered just an inch away from his lips.

"Very well," Guy replied as he caught her up in his arms, unable to resist her lips so close to his own. He pulled her closer, pressing himself against her every inch as he kissed her deeper, feeling her sigh and part her lips beneath his.

Then she broke away from his mouth, resting her head against his strong chest. Catrine sighed pensively, "If we do this though, Guy, we must know exactly what the Sheriff plans. We will be gambling on the Sheriff's own gamble, and the price for failure would be… brutal."

Guy's chuckle reverberated through her body. "Only if we get caught, my love," he murmured into her ear. He pulled away from her embrace, "We cannot fail. But how do we plan to intercept Atwood tonight if we don't even know what the Sheriff wants at the orphanage?"

"Leave that to me," Catrine smiled, walking over to her black cloak hanging from the wall and pulling it off its hook. "Women visit orphanages all the time," her eyes flashed as she met Guy's look, "and I think it's time we considered adding a child to our lives, don't you?"

Guy chuckled, took the cloak from her arm and swirled it around her, fastening the golden clasp around her neck. "Such an… honest disguise, isn't it?" he chuckled, bringing the deep hood over Catrine's hair as it partially covered her face.

Her lips smiled from beneath its edge, "Would you like a boy or a girl?"

"I'd like to know exactly what the Sheriff wants at the orphanage, and I'd like to take it right from under his nose… it only serves him right," he spoke softly to her as he drew her close once more, his voice low and raspy through her hood.

"Of course it does, my lord," Catrine whispered back, kissing him again quickly before setting off on the long ride to Sister Agatha's.


	4. Chapter 4

"Ah!" smiled the nun in her habit, her blue eyes positively brimming with joy, "Welcome my lady," she greeted, grabbing the reins before her from the stunning black mare. The woman she addressed dismounted, flinging aside her long black cloak to step down.

Catrine smiled sweetly under the cowl of her hood. "Salve, sister. You must be Sister Agatha," she greeted. Her education—or seclusion as she referred to it—at a French Convent as a young woman at least lent Catrine a familiar air around nuns.

"And you must be looking for a child to grace your manor, my lady. What is your name, my child?" Sister Agatha's full, red cheeks grew even rounder as she smiled even wider.

Dipping her head ever so slightly, Catrine removed her hood, "Mary of Bath, lady in waiting for the Duchess de Winter. I've heard of your establishment, and… as my husband and I have struggled now for years… and still have no child of our own…"

"Say no more, my lady. You'll see that the children here are in excellent health, in active spirits, and of purest faith. The Abbot of Kirkleys himself patrons my humble ministry, and the children are well provided for," Sister Agatha swept her arm in the direction of the cottage door. "Care to look around, my lady?"

Catrine smiled, ''I'd love nothing more, Sister." The women walked into the dimly lit room, and immediately children began shouting. Almost twenty children clambered around Sister Agatha, smiling and clapping and showing her whatever was in their hands. Seeing Catrine walk over the threshold, the children all quieted down at the stranger in all black. One small, bright-blonde haired girl walked up to her, holding up a crude wooden doll—a brilliant red flower behind her ear framed by her yellow curls. Catrine smiled and picked the little girl up.

"Made friends with little Rose have you?" Sister Agatha smiled, forming dimples in her round cheeks.

"Is that your name, child?" Catrine softly asked the girl in her arms, and the young girl nodded, taking the flower from behind her ear. She softly sighed looking at the pedals, and Catrine recognized the flower as the child's namesake, a crimson rose. The little girl smiled up at Catrine, and she placed the rose behind Catrine's ear. A shiver passed along Catrine's spine as she looked into the child's stunning grey eyes. Grey eyes reminding her of another pair of beloved eyes. As if she were holding her own child already in her arms.

"My lady?" Sister Agatha spoke softly.

Catrine shook her head, adjusting Rose in her arms, "Yes, Sister?"

"Have you chosen already?" the nun asked hopefully, folding her hands together as if in prayer.

"I… I should like to see the rest of your ministry here, Sister Agatha. Tell me more about your patronage by the blessed Abbot. You must be well provided for," Catrine continued, her mind still investigating the Sheriff's motives while her heart beat furiously in hope, cradling the child in her arms.

Sister Agatha smiled her dimply smile and began walking through another door of the cottage, "The Abbot has been exceedingly good to us. Even in the midst of famine, we are provided for. These children will eat well for the winter."

That was it. Catrine froze in place, and Rose began to squirm in her arms. She looked around in the room, a sort of kitchen and scullery, crates of vegetables lined one wall, dishes laid out on a table, and in the corner another door lay opened to reveal sacks upon sacks of grain. The orphanage had grain, and enough to feed starving children for the entire winter. _That_ was what the Sheriff wanted.

Catrine stared at the mountain of burlap sacks, "Are you not afraid of robbery, Sister? With such a scarcity of food, do you not seek to protect your bounty?"

The nun laughed, "I should hope we would not have to protect ourselves. We rely on the faith of good people."

"Being out in the world, you should know that not all people _are_ good, Sister," Catrine mumbled, looking down at the child still smiling in her arms.

Sister Agatha walked closer to Catrine, grabbing her elbow gently and leading her out of the cottage into a yard, "No, not all people are good. But all are deserving of salvation. That is why this orphanage is here, to save the young children and to give them a new home." Catrine smiled at the nun's sweet, forgiving grin, and Rose whined, begging to be let down.

Catrine set her down to sit on the grass, adjusting the doll for the girl, laughing as Rose began to giggle at the doll's movements.

"Ah, my lady, here comes one of our volunteers, without which, this orphanage would not continue to function," Sister Agatha called to Catrine from across the yard. Catrine heard a fence gate rattle open in the distance. "Oh, Maid Marian, we have a prospective mother today! Isn't it exciting!" the nun's jovial voice floated down over the field, and Catrine froze again.

"Marian," she growled to herself, still hunched over the little girl. She straightened quickly and threw the hood over to hide her face. Every inch of her body rigid, she had to leave. She could not be caught here.

A gentle tug at her hem startled Catrine, and she looked down at the young girl, the grey eyes smiling up at her, almost pleading.

"I'm sorry, Rose, my darling," Catrine said softly to the child as she pulled her cloak hem from the weak grasp. With a swirl of black fabric, Catrine ran back into the cottage, through the rooms and out the front door. She untied the horse from the fence and mounted it quickly, riding away from the orphanage. Riding away from the hope she had felt there, if only for a moment.

In the yard, Sister Agatha spun around, looking for the noble woman in a black cloak, "She must be here somewhere," she muttered to herself.

"Who, Sister?" Marian asked, walking with the nun back towards the cottage.

"Mary of Bath, lady of the Duchess de Winter, or something…" the nun replied, walking over to Rose and picking the child up.

Marian shook her head, "There is no such noble named Duchess de Winter, Sister Agatha. What did this woman want?" she asked, taking the child from the nun's arms.

Sister Agatha shook her head, her wimple wagging along in motion, "If not for little Rose, then I don't rightly know. She picked up this child, I showed her the store room, we talked about the Abbot's generous donation of grain, and then we came out here..."

"You showed her… the grain, Sister?" Marian asked concernedly as they entered the cottage scullery.

"Yes, she was most curious about its safety, actually."

Marian shook her head and set the child down on the floor of the cottage; little Rose ran off, carrying her doll in one hand. "Sister Agatha, tell me, what did this woman look like?"

"Noble… very noble in her black cloak, long blonde hair, brown eyes, and overall, a very cheerful face."

Marian was silent. "Excuse me, Sister," she spoke after a moment, walking out the front door of the cottage and gazing off down the road. There was no doubt in her mind that this mysterious woman was Lady Gisborne. And where that woman was, the Sheriff would not be too far behind. She looked up to the bright autumn sky. Tonight would be busy for the Nightwatchman, Marian thought.


	5. Chapter 5

Her mind and body numb from the long journey home, Catrine reined her mare in just outside of the manor stables. She leaned forward, bracing her hands on the very edge of her saddle, her mind racing in images: the nun's dimpled smile, the crude wooden doll, Marian's smug, innocent face, Rose's loving grey eyes, and the mountain of burlap sacks. Shaking her head furiously, Catrine closed her eyes, but the images only grew more and more vivid.

A hard, grating sound from the stables startled Catrine from her thoughts. The quick sound repeated, and repeated again: _shick… shick… shick._

She looked towards the stable entrance and recognized the familiar sound of sharpening a blade. "Guy?" Catrine asked tentatively as she dismounted from her mare, grabbing the reins and walking into the entrance.

"In here," Guy's gruff reply sounded from the farthest corner of the stables in between the grinding sounds. Leading her mare into its stall, Catrine began to remove the saddle from its gleaming back. Then, she looked into the shadows. Guy sat on top of a barrel, his legs spread astride and hanging off the barrel's edge, his side pressed against the neighboring wall. Guy held his shining dagger against the barrel top between his legs, the metal ringing in sharpness each time he passed the smooth dark stone over its gleaming blade.

Catrine could feel him glance towards her as she moved to look out the stable entrance, cautiously searching all around—inside the stable and out.

"We're alone," Guy's voice stirring from the shadows behind her. "I ordered the servants away. None of them would risk a tanning… or worse… to be within earshot of the stables." Catrine turned around, seeing Guy testing the blade's sharpness with his finger. He chuckled as he flipped the dagger over, methodically scraping the opposite side with the shiny black stone once again, "Now Catrine, tell me all about the orphanage. I'm sure one thing there piqued your interest at least."

Standing unmoving in the doorway, Catrine looked at Guy, still unnerved and anxious as she met his grey eyes from the shadows. Guy cocked an eyebrow and beckoned her forward still holding the black stone in his hand. With a shiver running down her spine, Catrine obeyed him—a smirk crossing her face. She met his hand with hers and laced her fingers between his, feeling the black stone cutting slightly into her palm. Guy pulled her close and reached his other hand into her long blonde hair, "Tell me, my love, what does the Sheriff want so badly he would slight both of us, hmm?" he breathed in her ear.

She felt his fingers running through her hair and arched her neck slightly under his stirring touch. "Grain," Catrine answered after a moment as she looked into his eyes, "Enough grain to last the winter, and then some."

Guy smirked, continuing to stroke her head slowly and deliberately, "No wonder the Sheriff is so keenly interested in orphaned children."

Catrine's gaze fell from his face to the straw-covered floor.

At the same moment, she felt his fingers feeling behind her ear; he silently withdrew the rose from her hair, pressed its crimson petals to his nose and breathed deeply, tossing the flower to the floor once he was through.

"Guy…" Catrine whispered, staring at the rose's wilted petals lying in the straw.

He pulled her closer as he let go of her hand, reaching around her waist to press her even tighter to where he sat on the barrel. "Yes?" he replied, his voice seemingly dripping with confidence and excitement.

"I… I don't think we should do this… I don't think we should take the grain…"

"Catrine," he said as he scrutinized her averted face, "this is not like you."

"They're just children, Guy…" her voice even softer than before.

Guy leaned away from her, "Children or no, the Sheriff will take the grain. We can't stop that, but we can certainly take advantage of it, my love." He set the stone beside the dagger between his legs and reached for her head with both hands, trying to slowly turn it.

She resisted his strength, still staring hard at the ground. Guy chuckled slightly as he finally forced her to look back at him, seeing a sort of sadness in her brown eyes. He leaned in and kissed her lips, pressed tight in anxious thought. Still she remained closed off from him, shutting her eyes despite his kiss. He chuckled as he looked on his wife; "Catrine," he whispered, kissing her eyelids, "We have to do this." Chuckling again, he continued, "Do it for yourself, for all the times the Sheriff has insulted your brilliance, mocked your beauty, and separated us," her eyes opened at his words, a gleam of a smile in them. "And, if not for yourself," Guy continued with a gentle kiss on her lips, "then do it for Locksley, as Lady Gisborne." He pulled her close and pressed his warm, wet lips to her ear, "And if not for Locksley, then do it for me." Shivers ran down her spine as she felt his lips traveling along her neck, gently brushing her skin, placing a soft kiss at the top of her shoulder.

A moan escaped Catrine's lips, and Guy paused, only to begin kissing her harder at her neck.

"We'll leave soon, arrive before sundown to hide away and wait until midnight," she managed to say through her increasingly heavy breaths. Breaking away from his lips, Catrine took one step away from the barrel, still meeting Guy's gaze as her hand slowly slid down the inside of his thigh to the objects on the barrel top between his legs. She picked up the smooth black stone, palming it in her right hand, "Let me help you, my love?" she asked with a smirk on her lips.

"With pleasure," he replied as he grabbed the dagger's handle, holding the blade against the wood. Catrine pressed herself tightly alongside Guy's body and took the stone in her fingers, slowly running it along one edge of the blade. Repeating the motion, she leaned in even harder against his side as Guy lifted his arm from between them, wrapping it around her hips.

"You need to run along its length faster," he instructed. "And be sure to get the tip at the very end."

Catrine laughed softly and raised her eyebrow, casting him a mischievous, sidelong glance, "Very well, my love."

Guy smirked in reply as she repeatedly ran the stone over the dagger, staring as her hand worked along the blade, mesmerized by its movement. Then he felt her other hand pressing on his thigh, wandering slowly up its length. Her hand's pressure and warmth came to rest just at the base of his hip, and then began to slowly travel back down towards his knee.

He groaned, and Catrine laughed as she continued working on the dagger, knowing just how much she tormented him. "I think my dagger is perfectly sharpened now," he ventured as he removed the dagger from the barrel top and returned it to its sheath.

"Any other weapons that need my attention, Guy?" Catrine asked, feigning an innocent air as she dropped the stone to the floor.

"Oh… I can think of one," he chuckled, grabbing hold of her wrist and moving her hand over his cock. She looked up at him, a glint to her eye as she placed her other hand on his knee, running it quickly up to join its mate pressing hard into his crotch, teasing him through his leather pants. His heavy breath traveled down her neck as he leaned in, whispering in her ear with a gravely chuckle, "And just remember the instructions I gave, my love."

* * *

_Author's note: oh, I know it's mean to leave it hanging. But don't worry, just wait till the next chapter ;) Guy and Catrine need something to do while they wait..._


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's note: Guy and Catrine's "distraction" while they wait in ambush ;)_

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* * *

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Sunset had already fallen hours ago, and yet the last gleams of dusk still streaked the evening sky. The woods outside of Sister Agatha's seemed fairly tame to Guy. Certainly nothing like Sherwood, at least. He stood stroking his horse's neck, keeping the beast calm as it stood harnessed up to their cart. Guy looked through the trees towards the orphanage. At least they had a clear view of the entire yard from here, and a clear view of the storage room door. Just a few hours remained for them to wait until Captain Atwood would arrive; then they would strike from their hiding place.

Tonight, he would show the Sheriff, and tonight, he would save all those worthless peasants in Locksley. He smiled and folded his arms over his chest. Everything in Locksley was his: the peasants, the crops, the beasts, and especially the mistress of Locksley. All of them were his. And all of her was his.

He gave the horse one final pat on the neck and walked around to the cart, peering into the bed. Catrine lay asleep, curled on her side against the wooden boards. She looked peaceful, too peaceful, Guy thought with a smirk. Silently and slowly, Guy climbed into the cart and sat straddled on the wooden seat. He began to take off his boots, setting them in front of the seat. Then he removed his jacket, avoiding letting the metal clasps clink, and then he stripped off his black tunic. Guy took a deep breath and ever so slowly began to take off his belt, grasping his scabbard in one hand while unbuckling the leather strap with the other. He set down the whole thing with the softest metallic clink beside his other discarded clothing. Lastly, Guy swung his leg around to the backside of the seat, standing in the bed of the cart just a foot away from Catrine's sleeping form. In but a second, Guy unlaced his pants and pulled them off, tossing them on the seat behind him, his naked body barely lit by the dying sunset.

The cart gently rocked as Guy knelt down in front of her peaceful sleeping form. She breathlessly moaned, her sleep slightly disturbed by the motion. Gently running her hand through her hair, Guy leaned over her, "Catrine," he spoke softly, "It's your turn to keep watch."

She smiled as she woke, her eyes fluttering open slowly and her smile broadening as she scanned over Guy's naked body. "I must still be dreaming," she muttered as she closed her eyes again.

Guy rolled her over on her back, gently pushing on her shoulder. A smile still etched on her half-sleeping face, her eyes flashed open as she felt his hand running up her leg under her dress, his finger entering her immediately, playing in and out of her vagina. Her body tensed at the sudden touch.

"Better than a dream," Guy laughed as he bunched her skirt high above her waist. He smirked down at her, and Catrine reached up, lightly tracing her fingers over his body kneeling beside her. He caught her hand and controlled its motion over him as he laid down on his side. Her wrist in his hand, she touched his rough, bearded cheek and traced her finger down his long nose. He moved her hand down his neck and over his chest, finally running all the way down him and pressing her hand against his erection.

Her eyes still slightly blurred by sleep flashed up to meet his, and with a smirk she threw her leg over him. Guy rolled his body onto hers, opening her teasing smile with a hungry, passionate kiss and biting her lips if she tried to break away from him. He felt her guide his cock between her legs, feeling her already wet and anxious for him. He rested his cheek against hers, and Catrine felt his warm breath run along her neck. Supporting himself on his elbows alongside her body, Guy grinded his hips into hers, trusting deeper. Catrine reached around him, her hands exploring every inch of the bare skin of his back, pulling him closer to her and pressing down on his broad muscular shoulders.

He thrusted deeper again and again; he lifted himself up from her, grabbing her leg from beneath him and raising it up to wrap around him. Catrine smirked and did the same with her other leg, and immediately Guy thrusted even deeper, moving harder and faster within her. Roughness grazed against her face as Guy returned his stubbled cheek to rest against hers once again. She laced her fingers into his hair and angled his head away from hers, placing kisses along his jaw line up to his ear as he continued his thrusting.

"Oh, Guy," she moaned, and then she gently ran her tongue along his ear, kissing his neck just beneath it and biting his earlobe. She felt him shudder under her kiss as he began thrusting deeper, slowing his pace as he felt her arching ever so slightly beneath him with each thrust.

"No…" Catrine moaned in his ear, "Faster." She heard him chuckle once to himself, and yet he continued to thrust slowly and deeply as if he didn't hear her. Inhaling sharply, Catrine felt him pause for a moment. Guy propped himself up on one elbow, a small sneer beginning to cross his face. He caught both her hands from his neck in one hand, pulling them above her head and pinning them to the bed of the cart. She trembled beneath him as he leaned down, biting her ear quickly.

"Is that how you talk to your lord and master?" he growled, tightening his hold on her hands.

Catrine panted and squeezed her legs tighter around his waist, "Faster, if it so please you, my lord," she moaned and moved her hips beneath his weight.

"Much better," Guy replied as he released her hands and began thrusting deeper and faster within her. He remained above her, watching her every expression. His grey eyes never left her face as Catrine returned her hands to wandering over his back, feeling his muscles ripple with each thrust.

She smirked as she felt her body beginning to tighten, flooded with warmth, "Oh… my Lord Gisborne," she moaned as she closed her eyes and arched her back, chuckling as she felt Guy shudder within her as well as he finished.

He laid down on top of her, kissing along her neck and pressing his lips to her ear again, "Much better, my love," he breathlessly growled as he pulled out.

Catrine laughed as she gently continued to trace along his back, "And now, I suppose you expect me to keep watch while you sleep."

"Mm hmm," Guy replied, resting his head still against her cheek, his steadying breath warm against her neck.

"Well, that is a hard task to do, what with you sleeping on top of me."

Chuckling, Guy cuddled closer to her, "You're clever. I'm sure you'll figure out a way."

Catrine laughed and tried to push him off of her, "Now, that's not fair."

Guy only wrapped his arms around her tighter, "That's not fair… my lord," he corrected.

With a frustrated huff, Catrine resigned herself to her fate, "It's still not fair… my lord," she added mockingly at the end.

"Much better," Guy whispered already half-asleep, his naked body warmed by her own beneath him.


	7. Chapter 7

The bell in the town of Klun nearby tolled out the time—two deep rings echoed through the trees as Guy and Catrine stood in the forest shadows. Both of them focused only on the storage room door, the night lit by the full moon now past its fullest height in the starry sky. Catrine smiled; the full moon meant two things for her. One, that they would be able to see their enemy and take advantage of the shadows. And two, her body was the most ready, the most fertile, she thought as she felt with both hands at her lower stomach again. Perhaps she was already carrying the very beginnings of their child.

Suddenly, the horse began to snort angrily and anxiously stamp its hooves. Catrine, startled from her thoughts, silently ran over to the beast, Guy following right behind her. Stroking its neck, Guy shushed the horse, speaking softly to it as Catrine reached into a bag beneath the seat of the cart. She pulled out an apple, joining Guy as she stroked the horse's pink nose. With a happy soft whinny, the horse relaxed and began munching on the apple. Catrine's heart raced. A nervous horse could betray their hiding spot, and any moment now, Captain Atwood's cart should come clattering down the road.

As they attentively petted the horse, slowly calming the beast, Catrine thought she saw some dark shadow approach the storage door from the corner of her eye. But when she turned her head, nothing was to be seen anywhere in that yard.

Guy stepped away from the horse with one final pat, "That was strange. He rarely spooks."

"Did you see that? At the storage room door?" Catrine asked, hiding behind a tree just on the edge of the forest.

Guy shook his head and shrugged, "I saw nothing." He moved behind the same wide tree, leaning over her to peer into the yard as well. She felt him press his body along hers, his gloved hands wandering around her slowly from behind.

"Ugh, Guy," she groaned, his mind clearly not focused on their plan, "Don't you ever have enough?"

He chuckled as his hands cupped around her breasts, "Do you?" he replied.

She huffed once more and ducked quickly under his arms, moving stealthily behind another tree. Looking over her shoulder, she noticed Guy casting her a glance, his hands braced against the tree where her body used to be, and she stifled a laugh.

At that moment, the sound of hoof beats grew louder and louder from along the road. Guy quickly ran behind her again, drawing his sword as they heard the cart rattle along the road just a ways off from them. "This should be Captain Atwood now," he whispered, and Catrine nodded.

"You'll have to tell me. I've never actually seen the new captain," she replied, turning her head to face him. His grey eyes glinted down at her in the moonlight, shining with a hidden cruelty and rage that Catrine recognized, a gleam that sent shivers of fear down her own spine.

"I'm sure that's him," he whispered returning his gaze to the yard in front of him. "You'll drive the cart up into the yard and begin loading it with whatever sacks are nearest," he looked back down at Catrine, "I'll take care of Atwood," he growled.

The cart noises sounded from right before them as it rattled up slowly to the yard gate. Facing forward, Catrine watched as a young boy stepped down from the cart, swung the wooden gate open, and led the horse and cart by hand into the yard. "He's just a boy," Catrine murmured as she watched the youth move towards the storage room door, his face, pudgy and pale, shining in the moonlight, even whiter framed by his brown curly locks.

Guy sniffed just behind her, "Just a boy, and yet the Sheriff chooses him over me." Catrine could sense the snarl on his face behind her. Atwood stepped up to the storage room door, opening it silently and disappearing into the cottage. A moment later he returned with a burlap sack under each arm, tossing them into the back of the cart. Then Atwood turned around, heading back into the cottage.

Catrine felt Guy step away from her; he grabbed her elbow and turned her to face him. "Get the cart," he ordered, placing a kiss quickly on her lips before he stole way from her, taking advantage of Atwood's back being turned.

She moved quickly, leading the horse through the forest by its reins. Guy hid behind Atwood's cart. He threw her a glance as she emerged from the forest, nodding once to the cart's contents, and silently ordering her to relieve Atwood of them.

At that moment, the rustling of fabric and grunts of effort came from within the small cottage. Catrine led the cart alongside the gate and ran across the yard towards Atwood's cart, crouching in the shadow beside Guy. They stood and looked over towards the open door. A shadow flew past the door and something, or someone, fell heavily to the ground within the room.

Guy grabbed Catrine's arm, "Take the grain," he ordered, running around to the other side of the cart, his sword at the ready before him. Catrine reached into the cart, grabbing one heavy sack and hoisting it on her shoulder. She ran under its weight towards their cart, dumping the sack in the bed and spinning on her heel as she heard a shout behind her.

The young boy came running out of the cottage, another sack under one arm while the other clutched at his bleeding nose. Catrine ran up back into the yard, grabbing the other burlap sack from Atwood's cart. She paused, watching the boy freeze in place as he recognized Guy with his sword drawn in hand, dropping the heavy sack on the ground beside him. Atwood's face blanched even whiter, "S-Sir Guy…" his voice shook in fear.

Guy's cold laugh chilled Catrine as she lifted the other sack from the cart, hurrying back to theirs, hurrying away from the violence she knew Guy was capable of. The sound of punches made her wince as she lowered the sack into the cart bed. Two sacks would surely be enough, she thought to herself. Running back across the yard, Catrine moved as close to Guy as she dared, watching him punch young Atwood in the stomach again, the boy crumbling to the ground with a groan. "And the Sheriff thought you were better for this than me! I'm far too clever to be outsmarted by the likes of you. You're nothing but a young brat!" Guy growled and gripped his sword even tighter in his hand.

"Sir Guy," he gurgled getting up to his knees. He pointed to the open door, "There's someone… in there."

"You can't fool me, you bastard," Guy sneered in reply, threatening his blade against Atwood's neck.

At that moment, a figure came rushing towards them from the cottage, cloaked, hooded… and masked almost entirely.

Atwood spun around and away from Guy's sword; staggering to his feet, he groaned and panted in pain. "Sir Guy, it's the Nightwatchman."


	8. Chapter 8

"You," Guy growled as he sized up the man before him, his face hidden by a mask, his mouth even obscured by a cloth. Only his eyes peered beneath his hood. "We finally meet in person," Guy cockily joked, brandishing in sword towards the unarmed outlaw. "Don't interfere in this. It's none of your concern."

The Nightwatchman said nothing in reply. In one rapid motion, he kicked the blade from Guy's hand, spinning around and knocking Atwood back to the ground. Guy lunged forward, throwing a punch towards the Watchman who easily and swiftly moved out of the way, and Guy stumbled forward off balance. The Watchman grabbed Guy by his tottering shoulders and threw him to the ground. Walking up towards Guy's body, he wound up his leg to kick his exposed side. Then in a flash, Guy reached out, grabbed the Watchman's stationary leg and pulled it out from under the man's body, sending him reeling to the ground. Guy jumped to his feet, delivering the same treatment he just almost received, driving his own foot hard into the Watchman's side with a yell.

"Not one sound of pain," Guy commented as he leaned over, winding his arm up for a punch and grabbing hold of the masked man's jacket to better brace the blow. Then all at once, the Nightwatchman planted his foot squarely in Guy's chest, grabbing his arm and flipping him into the air. Guy landed hard on his back a distance way with a groan. In the time he bought, the Watchman staggered to his feet, clutching at his injured side.

Catrine rushed forward to Guy, reaching her hand out to pull him back up. Looking up to the stranger, she expected to be attacked as well. Instead, the Nightwatchman stepped back from them and pulled his hood even deeper over his face, hiding even his masked eyes from sight. She pulled Guy to his feet with a grunt. "Catrine, stay out of this. Get the grain instead," Guy growled as he pushed her towards the sack lying on the ground a distance off. With a flick of his cape, the Nightwatchman ran between her and the sack, spinning around to stand defiantly in her way.

In the distance, Atwood groaned in pain, staggering once more to his knees. Retrieving his sword from the ground with a snarl, Guy strode over to the boy who clutched at his bleeding nose and his heaving stomach. Guy pressed the blade to Atwood's bare neck again and leaned down to stare directly into his frightened eyes. "If you so much as breathe a word of what really happened here tonight, I will kill you, Atwood. You may be certain of that."

Atwood shook with fear, "Y-yesss S-sir," he stuttered trying to stand. With a cruel sneer on his face, Guy planted his hand firmly on Atwood's shoulder, forcing him to remain on his knees as he brought the heavy hilt of his sword down on the top of his head with a sickening crack. Atwood collapsed unconscious to the ground.

Guy spun around to find his wife, "Catrine! The grain!" he yelled as he ran to the cart.

At the same time, Catrine stood staring at the Nightwatchman, the unknown threat she had heard so much about. She dared one step closer towards the sack, and the man receded the same distance. Narrowing her eyes in thought, Catrine dared a few more steps forward, and again, the man walked out of her way. She chuckled slightly at her thought and full out ran towards the man who sidestepped out of her way and spun around, watching as Catrine grabbed the heavy sack from the ground, a triumphant smile etched across her face. Suddenly a candle flickered from the cottage window, catching Catrine's eye. She looked up only to see a small, frightened face framed by brilliant, long blonde hair. The girl's grey eyes shined at her from the window frame.

"Catrine! The grain!" Guy yelled at her as he ran towards their cart. Catrine felt a sob rising in her chest as she looked from the lit window to the heavy sack in her arms, and finally to the masked man staring at her from his shadowy hood. Releasing the sob from within her, Catrine tossed the sack back to the ground. "Here," she said staring at the Nightwatchman and pointing to the sack, "Take it back for the children," she moved her finger towards Atwood's still body, "And make sure he doesn't take anything for the Sheriff. The Sheriff doesn't deserve it."

With that, Catrine spun on her heel and began running back towards their cart. For a second, she thought she heard a surprised gasp from the Nightwatchman. She climbed into the cart, "Go, Guy!"

"Where's the grain?" he asked, his voice gravely in anger and exhaustion.

"The Nightwatchman took it from me. Just go! Two sacks will be more than enough," she replied, her own voice cracking in frustration. Guy whipped up the horse, driving the cart quickly down the road back towards Locksley. Catrine turned around in her seat, and she watched as the cloaked man carried the sack back into the cottage, pausing at the door to watch their cart turn down the road.

Marian sighed under the weight of the grain in her hands and from the aching in her side, shaking her head in confusion. She looked at the cart as it turned away from Nottingham, then she looked at the young man lying unconscious on the ground, his body covered in the black uniform of a castle guard. Sir Guy and Lady Gisborne weren't taking the grain for the Sheriff; they were taking the grain _from_ the Sheriff.

She dropped the grain sack on the cottage floor and returned outside, clutching at her injured side, the entire area tender to the touch and swollen. She would need help to heal this injury, no thanks to that brutish Sir Guy and his hostile wife.


	9. Chapter 9

Morning light peeked into the bedroom window of Locksley Manor, and Guy lifted his head from the pillow, rubbing his eyes from exhaustion. He had lain awake for the few hours of night that remained after they returned. With a small smile, he looked at Catrine's sleeping face resting on his outspread arm—her own arm wrapped around him and her breath slow and steady. His eyes flickered over her peaceful form as he reached over with his free arm, gently brushing away the loose strands of hair over her face.

Catrine inhaled deeper, her eyes opening slowly under his touch. Smiling, Guy placed a kiss on her forehead, "Good Morning," he whispered as he tried gently to move his arm out from under her.

"Don't leave," Catrine murmured softly, cuddling closer to his warm body. "Don't go to the castle yet."

"I have to. I have to make sure we're safe," he spoke as he placed her head onto his chest, "I have to cover our tracks. Otherwise…"

"I know," Catrine replied, lifting herself up to look into his eyes, "Want me to come with you?"

"Of course I want you to. But that would only make the Sheriff suspect us that much more." Catrine's slight smile faded from her face. "Catrine," Guy continued, gently lifting her chin with his hand, "It's dangerous. If the Sheriff finds out…"

"We know that already, Guy. And yet we stole the grain anyway. He needs us… he needs you far too much to even have you arrested. Especially since Atwood failed," Catrine whispered as she gently traced her fingers over his chest. "You will be fine. Just make certain that Atwood is not a liability. That he is… silenced."

Smirking, Guy raised an eyebrow, "What are you suggesting?"

Catrine smirked too, patting him on the cheek, "You're a clever boy. I'm sure you'll figure it out."

"A boy?" Guy sneered with a chuckle. Catrine squealed in surprise as his hand wandered down to her ass, squeezing it once firmly. He chuckled deeper, exploring beneath her shift and stroking up her thigh, "A boy, or a man?"

"You tell me," Catrine replied with smile, leaning in as she brought her leg over his thighs. She slid on top of him, straddling his hips beneath her. Placing a lingering kiss on his lips, she sat up slowly, running every inch of her body along his, and then with a sneer, she moved off him, stepping off the bed entirely.

Guy groaned and swung his legs off the side of the bed to sit up, "Don't do this to me, Catrine." He began to gather his clothes from the floor.

"I thought you had to leave for the castle, my love," she mocked, turning and walking away from the bed to her wardrobe. Opening the doors, she reached in, chose a simple emerald dress and began pulling it over her head. As she felt the fabric slide down, another pair of hands began to pull at the dress and lace the ties on the back.

Guy chuckled as he placed a kiss on her cheek from behind, "You win this one, but just wait until I return tonight," his whisper deep and gravely in her ear, "I expect a truly warm welcome home."

Feeling him finish the final lace on her back, Catrine spun around, "As you wish, my lord," she lowered her eyes and dipped him a curtsey. Then her eyes narrowed in worry as she pressed against him, meeting his lips with a quick kiss, "Just... be careful, Guy." She kissed him again, "I love you."

"And I love you," he answered hugging her body close to his one more time. Then he stepped away and strode out of the room, leaving Catrine alone again.

She moved to the window, waiting to see him riding away towards the castle. Typically, her heart ached to see him leave, aching with dread just thinking about his departure for the sands of the Holy Land. But today, she had her own unfinished business. She would do anything to have a child, even visit a peasant midwife, so long as it meant a child—a little Gisborne—for her.


	10. Chapter 10

Guy slowed his horse as he entered through the castle gate. A flurry of activity swarmed the courtyard, and Guy recognized one thing: a familiar—and empty—cart stationary in front of the castle steps. Four or five soldiers carried the still unconscious body of Captain Atwood up the stairs slowly, laboring over each step they took. Quickly dismounting, Guy raced up the stairs, following the group as they entered into the castle. And meeting the unpleasant and displeased face of the Sheriff.

"Good Morning, Gisborne. I trust you enjoyed your holiday yesterday," his wrinkled face even more sour as he turned to watch the men carry Atwood's body in front of him.

Guy caught his breath, "What's happened here, my lord Sheriff?"

The Sheriff placed his fist over his mouth and cleared his throat, "Well, apparently, Captain Atwood has met with some… foul play."

"Doing what, my lord?" Guy inconspicuously asked, still staring after the soldiers.

"Some, trifle of a mission for me. Nothing out of the ordinary, Gisborne," the Sheriff replied waving his hand and spinning on his heel to follow the men. "But, let me tell you, Gisborne, Captain Atwood has failed me for the last time."

Guy suppressed the beginnings of a smirk, "But my lord Sheriff, wouldn't that have been his first mission for you?"

"Then he has failed me for the first… and last… time." The Sheriff paused in the middle of the hallway. "Nonetheless, I suppose I will at least send for my physician. Atwood received quite the thrashing last night, it would seem." He turned to face Guy, his dark eyes glinting with cunning, "Why don't you follow the men, hmm? Go and… take care… of Atwood."

His breath caught in his throat, "With pleasure, my lord Sheriff," Guy replied.

"Oh, and Gisborne," the Sheriff added, his voice barely audible as he placed his hand on Guy's folded arms, "If you so happen to find out who did this to our… beloved captain… you will inform me immediately."

"Yes my lord Sheriff," Guy answered, stalking off after Atwood's body. He caught up with the soldiers just outside of a bedroom door, opening it wide to let the men enter and set Atwood down on the mattress with a resounding thud. "Well done, men," Guy spoke as he ushered the soldiers out of the room, "I want one of you to stand guard down the corridor. Let me know the very moment you see the physician coming, understand?"

"Yes, Sir Guy," they all saluted, walking off down the hall.

Guy permitted himself a smirk as he shut the door, drawing the bolt securely. Then, he turned his attention to the boy.

His face contorting in pain and his limbs stirring, Atwood was waking up. "Damn," Guy cursed as he scanned the boy's body, wondering where to stab him. This boy's death had to appear to be from his wounds. Not from Guy's dagger, and not by the Sheriff's orders.

Atwood's hazel eyes fluttered open, dazed and confused, "Wh-where am I?" His gaze focused on Guy by the bedside, not noticing his gloved hand clutched on his dagger's hilt. "Sir Guy?"

Guy nodded. And to his surprise, the boy laughed as he began to gingerly feel along his bruised cheeks and jaw.

"What a surprise," Atwood's high-pitched voice growing stronger by the second, "I wake from my beating to find the very man who beat me and abandoned me to a merciless outlaw."

His gaze narrowing, Guy sneered at the boy, "What do you mean abandoned you? You don't deserve my help."

"You left me to die. You left me alone with the Nightwatchman who threw me into the cart, spooked the horse, and knocked me out again. I assume I've somehow made it back to Nottingham, apparently in one piece." Atwood flexed his arms and searched them for wounds as well, "Well, I suppose if I'm in the castle, I'd like to see the Sheriff. I believe there's something I need to inform him of, don't you, Sir Guy?"

Guy snarled as he leaned over Atwood's puffy and bruised face, "You wouldn't dare. Did my last punch to your head make you forget my threat, Atwood?"

Atwood scoffed, "You wouldn't dare kill me in the castle. I would bet that the Sheriff has already sent for his physician for me." Guy sniffed. "I see I am right," Atwood continued, smiling at Guy's reaction.

A slow sneer drawing across Guy's face made Atwood pause. "Yes, the physician has been sent for. Now, what do you want in return for your silence?" Guy straightened as he asked his question, turning away from the bed.

"I want you to recommend me for the title of Master at Arms," Atwood answered, lying back on the bed with his arms behind his head.

With a scoff, Guy turned his head to look at the boy, "And what makes you think the Sheriff would grant you that title, after you failed his mission?"

"I failed because of you… and, I think I understand the Sheriff well enough to know that he wouldn't take too kindly to that information, now would he?" Atwood closed his eyes, feeling a surge of confidence, "You see, one week at the castle, and I already know how to play the politics here, Sir Guy. Exploit those who know more than you do, gather they're secrets, and don't apologize, isn't that accurate?"

Guy chuckled, "Very accurate, Captain. But I'm afraid you haven't learned the most applicable lesson here."

"Oh, and what's that?" Atwood asked, his eyes still closed.

"Never anger the man who knows where all the bodies are buried. And that's me. Literally." Guy unsheathed his dagger, driving it once into Atwood's side beneath his arm. Atwood let out a gurgle of pain as his panicked eyes turned to face Guy who still held the blade in his side. "The Sheriff would like to inform you that your services are no longer required," and with that, he twisted the blade deeper in the wound, drawing it out and wiping it on the bed linen.

With one final spasm, Atwood let out his dying breath, his eyes fixated open on the ceiling above him. His blood soaked the linens of the bed, the crimson streaks spreading out from the wound. Guy ran to the door, opening it and calling out for the guard down the hall. "Send for the Sheriff, Captain Atwood is dead," he yelled, standing in the doorframe.

A few seconds later the Sheriff turned the corner of the hall, "No need to shout, Gisborne, I'm already here." He slowly walked up to Guy and peered around him, seeing the bloodied mess on the bed, "Tsk tsk Gisborne. Such a violent death."

"He had many wounds and bruises, my lord," Guy replied, throwing a quick glance at the soldier just a few feet away from them. He fought the rising anxiety inside him, knowing he was almost through, that he and Catrine were almost safe. "He did come to for a moment before he died, though."

"Yes? And what did he confide in you, Gisborne?" The Sheriff's eyes narrowed in suspicion as he asked the question.

Guy took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully, "He said he was attacked by the Nightwatchman. Nothing more. His wounds were bleeding profusely, and he breathed his last before he could say another word."

"Excellent!" the Sheriff exclaimed, clapping his hands together once, "I mean… his death is a great loss to us. No matter," he began walking down the hall and paused before the guard, "arrange the funeral, have him buried, tell his family, blah-di-blah-di-blah."

The guard nodded and walked off in the opposite direction.

Clasping his hand behind his back, the Sheriff turned to face Guy, bouncing up and down on he toes, "Tell me, Gisborne, is it good to be back?"

Guy smirked, "Yes, my lord Sheriff," he answered following after the Sheriff. He couldn't wait to tell Catrine the news. To tell her they had won. And to celebrate their victory.


	11. Chapter 11

"Right, dearie, now just lay down on this mattress and I'll have a look at you," Matilda's gruff voice instructed as she turned to retrieve some items from a table nearby. Catrine looked around the small cottage: herbs hanging from every inch of rafter, mortars and pestles crammed onto shelves, and bags upon bags of strange looking seeds and flowers cluttered everywhere. She looked hesitantly at the straw mattress bed in the corner, a small look of disgust creeping across her face.

"Yer gonna have to lie down if you want my help, my lady," Matilda commented looking up from the table where she quickly sorted through a pile of leaves and such. Catrine stood rigid as she threw a glance at the round and ragged midwife, her bushy brown hair tied away from her face with a kerchief. Rolling her eyes with a huff, Catrine sat on the bed and adjusted herself on the harsh straw beneath.

Matilda finally turned to face Catrine with a smile as she wiped her hands on her apron, "Now, what can I do for you, Lady Gisborne?"

Catrine folded her arms on her chest and grew rigid where she sat, "I thought it obvious, Matilda," she said, frustration biting at each word.

"I'll need more than that," Matilda laughed, "And I thought I had said for you to lie down." She patted the bedding beside where Catrine sat, "Now tell me, just between us women, what do you need help with?"

With a impatient groan, Catrine spread out on the mattress, her lips twitched in emotion, "I… I need your help to…" she paused and rolled her eyes again, "I just can't seem to…" she tried again, "Look, I've tried… many, many times, but…"

"You're having trouble getting pregnant?" Matilda finished for her. Catrine nodded once, and the midwife began laughing to herself as she turned away from the bed. "I find that surprising, Lady Gisborne. You know, there's lots of rumors about you and your husband, Sir Guy. They say you have no shame about… consummating your love," she continued to laugh as she walked to grab a stool in the corner, "They say you've been caught… or overheard… many times in your… passionate moments…" she set the stool down beside the bed, "In the castle bedrooms… in the manor… in the stables… outdoors."

Catrine grew tenser, grinding her teeth at this woman's insolence, "That's enough, Matilda!" she barked. "I'm not paying you for your commentary."

"Comes with the package, my lady," Matilda smiled and began feeling at Catrine's stomach, pressing into her slowly and massaging around at her innards. "Now, let's see," she muttered, continuing to feel. Catrine rested her arm on her forehead, staring at the thatched roof ceiling and the herb-filled rafters. "Hmm," Matilda mumbled as she sat up on her stool.

"What?" Catrine asked brusquely, "What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing. There's nothing bloody wrong with you," the midwife replied, resting her hands on her knees.

"Then why can't I conceive a child?" Catrine asked, hanging her head as she sat up, scratching her back from the itchy straw.

Matilda shrugged, "It's probably not yer fault, my lady," she answered, standing up and moving back to the table, her fingers picking through the satchels and bunches of herbs. "I can give you something, some remedies, for both you and yer husband. Something to make you both more… fertile," she began to grind the herbs together in a mortar. "Be warned, though. It will… stimulate… more than just your fertility, if ya know what I'm saying. Just mix this in with your wine, and… try again. But I don't think you need my encouragement for that, do you, my lady?" Matilda threw Catrine a half-smile.

Catrine returned the smile weakly, "No, Matilda." Then she laughed out loud as she stood up, "We don't need much encouragement at all."

The midwife began sifting the herbs into a small leather bag, tying off the end tightly, "That's a compliment to you, ya know," she said smiling and proffering the bag, "It takes a really special woman to keep her husband's affections like that. So," she continued as Catrine grabbed the bag, "Ya must be doing something right."

Catrine smiled as she stuck the small bag inside her purse, pulling out a handful of silver coins. "Thank you, Matilda," she spoke as she counted out her money. "This is for your remedies," she placed a silver coin in the midwife's palm, "This… is for your commentary," Catrine smirked as she offered another coin. Then she pressed the rest of the money into Matilda's hand, "And this is for your silence." The midwife's eyes grew large at the sum in her hand, looking up questioningly to Catrine. "Please, Matilda. For your silence."

Matilda's face smiled back in gratitude and in disbelief, "Mum's the word, my lady."

Catrine smiled once more before she turned to leave. Stepping out of the cottage, she shut the crude wooden door behind her and began walking down the path away from the midwife's. She clutched at her purse, feeling the small satchel inside, and her heart began to swell with hope again. Closing her eyes, Catrine pictured a child, bright blond hair and smiling grey eyes, running out of the manor door, playing on the hills of Locksley. Boy or girl, it didn't matter. Just so long as it was hers and Guy's. She breathed a contented sigh as she walked along towards Locksley. Then she opened her eyes only to find another figure approaching her on the path. A figure with long dark brown hair and a determined, almost cocky stroll.

"Marian," Catrine growled to herself and rolled her eyes in anger. What was she doing here, Catrine wondered as she felt her face flushing with resentment. Now the world would know that she went to a midwife. And peasants would snicker; a noble woman needing help from a common midwife to have a child and fulfill her wifely duty. They would surely guess her reason for going to Matilda's. And all because Marian had to show up at the most inopportune moment. She seemed to have a knack for that.

Lifting her head to look up towards Matilda's cottage, Marian paused on the road, and Catrine saw her light green eyes open wider in surprise. Her hand fell away from her side where it had been clutching tightly, and she straightened herself to her full height.

Catrine scowled and continued on her way along the path as Marian just stood still in the road. She stared right into Marian's gaze as she walked closer, stopping alongside her, the familiar irritation rising within her, the loathing she felt whenever she met this woman. With a slight sneer, Catrine bowed her head, "Lady Marian," her cold voice greeted.

"Lady Gisborne," Marian spoke softly as she ever so slightly dipped her head in response, taking a small staggered step towards Matilda's.

"Isn't it… strange… or rather suggestive… that an unmarried woman should be paying a visit to a midwife," Catrine snidely commented, turning to follow her movements. "Does your father even know whose child it is?"

Marian stopped mid-step, her hand slowly returning to her side once more. "Lady Gisborne," she commented over her shoulder, her voice filled with a suppressed passion, "Haven't you done enough already?"

Catrine froze, her jaw opening slowly as she searched her mind for a reply. But she could only stand silent.

"Apparently not," Marian looked at Catrine's face quickly before she continued to walk slowly forward.

"I… I'm sorry." Catrine spoke after her. And this time Marian turned around and froze. The two women looked at each other silently, their faces missing all traces of emotion. One simply looking at the other. Then Catrine pursed her lips, shaking herself from her thoughts and closing her eyes tightly. When she opened them again, she saw Marian walking away down the road quickly, her hands swinging determinedly at her sides with each step.

With a frustrated huff, Catrine fairly ran back towards Locksley, pushing her anger at Marian from her mind. She couldn't place exactly what irritated her so much, aside from her connection to Robin—the real born lord of Locksley. But somehow, Marian always stirred a deep sense of dread in her. An unavoidable pang of fear, fear she felt for her future. And there was nothing Catrine could do to stop it.

Catrine shook her head and forced a smile as she felt her purse once more. She had a homecoming to prepare. And a stimulating one at that.


	12. Chapter 12

Catrine picked at the last bits of her food left on her plate, her arm propped against the tabletop and her hand cupping her chin. She hated when Guy was late. So late, she couldn't wait to eat with him any longer, and his own trencher of salted beef and vegetables was already almost cold. Her eyes trailed to the table beside her, focusing on the small satchel from Matilda. Gently picking up the bag, Catrine untied the knot and opened the small opening, sniffing the contents once. She winced in disgust.

How was this supposed to help her, or even stimulate her, if it smelled awful, she wondered. Shrugging, Catrine stood and reached across the table for the decanter of wine. She swirled the drink, watching as the red liquid spun inside the pewter walls, and then she added the foul smelling leaves. They floated for a moment, then began dispersing through the wine. Catrine continued to swirl the metal flask, glancing to the manor door at the smallest noise. Growing more and more impatient, she grabbed Guy's empty goblet, pouring the wine up to the brim. To her surprise, the drink smelled no different, and in fact, nothing about it seemed different. She set down the cup and the flask with a final sigh, sitting herself back in her chair at the table.

Catrine sat in silence for only a moment. The racing of hoof beats grew closer from the road, and Catrine's heart began pounding as she heard Guy's deep voice instructing his men to dismount and turn in for the night. Standing from her chair, she eyed the full cup of wine, wondering if it would be too obvious for her to bring it to him. She shrugged and, empty-handed, ran to open the door for him.

He stood with his back to her, supervising his dozen or so men dismounting and leading their horses away to the stables. Hearing the wood creak open, Guy turned around, a wide smirk crossing his face as he saw Catrine.

"You're late," she teased as she tossed her hair back and opened the door wide. Guy strode up to the doorframe and braced himself against the posts, leaning in towards Catrine's slightly irritated face.

"I was busy. I had a lot to do," he leaned even closer, his lips pressing right against her ear, "what with catching up and covering up from yesterday." He stood, dropping his arms to his sides and walking into the manor.

Catrine began to shut the wooden door behind him with a laugh, "Well, since you've been detained longer than I expected, I'm afraid your dinner isn't as warm as it should be," she commented gesturing to the plate and cups on the table.

Guy sniffed and turned to face Catrine as she bolted the lock, "I'm not too interested in a warm dinner," his grey eyes glinted as he stepped closer, "just a warm welcoming like I said." With that, he pressed her against the door, catching her mouth with his. He hungrily kissed her, rapidly and deeply exploring every inch of her lips, each corner of her mouth. Catrine tried to brace herself against him, pressing her hands against his strong chest.

"Guy," she choked out under his kisses. But he didn't stop. She spoke his name again, but still he only caught her words up with a deeper kiss, trapping and teasing her tongue with his. She had to stop now. The remedy was still waiting for them, and all her hope for a child lay in that pewter cup and pitcher on the table.

His kisses began to tease at her ear and at her neck. Catrine took a deep breath to steady her heaving chest, "Guy, stop," she said almost breathless.

"Why should I?" he growled into the base of her neck.

She felt his lips traveling upwards again, and she spoke quickly, "Because, because your men are right outside, and the servants…" Guy's deep and husky chuckle grated at her ear as he sucked and bit her neck. "And your dinner, Guy. We can't waste the food, not with the famine." With that, she felt him pause and withdraw from her.

His grey eyes still glinted and narrowed in expectation, "Fine," he said with a sneer. "But this will be the second time today you've denied me, Catrine. And there won't be a third."

"As my lord wishes," Catrine commented with a smile as she led Guy to the table. Guy sat himself in the chair and pulled his gloves off, tossing them on the table. He picked up the silver knife and began cutting into the meat, stabbing a piece with the point and placing it in his mouth. Then he reached for his cup, taking a large sip to wash it down with.

Catrine took a deep breath where she stood at the table's head, feeling herself relax now that she knew he would drink the wine. She poured her own cup full of the liquid too, sniffing at it once before taking a drink. Something about it tasted sweeter, more delicious, more… exciting, she thought. Setting the cup on the tabletop, Catrine half sat on the table as well, still standing on one leg and spreading her skirt around her. Guy watched from the corner of his eye with a smirk, and Catrine laughed to herself. "So tell me, Guy, is everything taken care of?"

"Perfectly so, my love," Guy answered as he finished another bite, "The Sheriff will be looking for a new captain of the guard, regrettable as that may be," he smirked and raised the cup to his lips again, draining the goblet.

Standing once again, Catrine stepped over and grabbed the decanter, pouring him another brimming cupful and topping her own off. Guy smiled as she turned around, patting his knee for her to sit. Catrine hesitated; this was not something he ever had her do before. But he only slapped his thigh harder before he grabbed her hand and spun her around. He pulled her down onto his lap, wrapping one arm around her waist to keep her tight against him.

She negotiated herself to turn towards him. And of course grabbing her cup of wine in the process. She took a deep drink as Guy reached around her to pick up another piece of beef. As she drank, she could feel her heart beginning to beat faster, and she could sense every pulse of her blood coursing through her veins. Lowering her cup, she felt Guy's hand grab her wine away from her, drinking the rest of it himself and handing her the empty goblet, a knowing smirk across his face.

With a teasing huff, Catrine reached over the table for the flask, filling the cup with the last trickles of wine and grabbing the other cup from the tabletop. As she leaned away from him, Catrine felt Guy move his other leg beneath her, both of his hands wandering their way to her hips. He lowered Catrine fully on his lap as she sat.

She moved herself around to better face him, balancing both cups in hand, and Guy released a deep groan at the movement. And then she realized his erection was pressing against her, growing larger and hotter through his pants. Guy took the cup from her hand and took another drink. With a mischievous smile, Catrine drained the rest of hers and set the empty cup on the table with an emphatic clink. She looked right into his eyes as he lowered his drink and moved herself across his lap again, laughing as Guy sneered involuntarily at the movement.

His grey eyes smoldered over the rim as he finished his wine, tossing the cup to the ground behind him once he was through. "You insist on taunting me?" he growled.

"Taunting you?" Catrine laughed, grinding against him again and feeling him tighten beneath her. "You made me wait all day," she smirked at him as she stroked his cheek with her hand, "And now it's my turn to make you wait, just a bit."

"No," he growled, pushing her up off of his lap as he stood, the chair falling over behind him from his force. "I will not wait any longer," he smirked as he caught her in his arms, lifting her body to hang over his shoulder and steadying her by the legs. Catrine screamed quickly as she felt herself lift into the air, coming to rest roughly on his hard shoulder and draping over his broad back. Her breath came short, and her pulse raced, feeling every muscle in her body contract in anticipation, in excitement. In desire.


	13. Chapter 13

Guy grunted with each step he took up the stairs, moving as quickly as he could to the bedroom. Catrine let herself rest limply over his shoulder, totally at his mercy. Pausing halfway up the stairs, Guy adjusted her on his shoulder, supporting himself on the wall beside him, and scraping her body against the rough wood of the wall. She cried out in pain, but Guy only chuckled in response as he continued to climb up. He stepped on the landing just outside the bedroom and kicked the door open, sending it flying on its hinges and splintering the edge of the frame from the force. Dangling over his back, Catrine covered her head with her arms, both out of fear and for protection.

A sharp pain dragged across the back of her left arm and something ripped into her dress and skin above her elbow as Guy carried her over the threshold, unknowingly grazing her against the chipped and splintered doorframe. She whimpered from the sting, feeling warm blood dripping down her arm towards her wrist and sopping through her sleeve as she uncovered her head.

"Don't worry, my love. I'll be far gentler with you, once I have my way," Guy laughed at her fearful noise. Catrine soon forgot her wound as he dropped her lengthways in the center of the bed where she landed hard on her back. His breath loud and ragged, Guy grabbed her by the shoulders and flipped her around onto her stomach, driving his knee into her lower back as stood leaning over the bed. He roughly began unlacing the back of her dress, panting louder as the pale, smooth skin of her shoulders became the more visible. The emerald material began tearing as he ripped the laces from the dress. Finally with a grunt, Guy simply grabbed the dress's edges, tearing open the remaining laces, splitting the fabric down to her ass.

Not enough; he wanted her completely naked, totally exposed for him. His shaking hands began to roughly tug her right arm from the long sleeves, stretching and ripping the seams. She helped him free it from the dress, but nothing more, wanting to be taken, to be had, to be totally at his mercy. Guy then began to do the same with the other arm, running his hand along her shoulder under the fabric to her arm, tearing the fabric away from her skin. Her skin beneath felt wet and slippery, and Guy drew her arm from the dark green material. Fair white skin dripped and ran with bright crimson blood.

He stood up, "You're bleeding," he panted and looked at his hand, stained from her bloody arm.

Laughing as she rolled herself over on the bed to face him, Catrine pulled the torn and stained dress over her chest to cover her. "It's just a scratch, my love," her voice low and quiet. She sat up against the pillows and grabbed the bleeding left arm with her other hand, drawing it away from the wound. Her eyes gazed at Guy beside the bed, and she looked at her bloodied hand with a seductive smirk. With a chuckle, Catrine licked away the blood from her fingers, running each one slowly along her tongue. With her other hand, she let the dress fall away from her, uncovering everything for him to see, and Guy could truly wait no longer.

He removed his boots and jacket as quickly as he could, tossing them aside on the ground. Catrine crawled out of her dress towards Guy as he stripped off his tunic. She pressed her bloodied hand against his firm stomach, unlacing the ties to his pants with the other. Her wet hand slid down his front to his cock, trailing traces of blood where her hand traveled. She freed him from his leather pants as they dropped on the floor, barely touching his cock, but caressing the streaks of blood she left beneath his navel and lower with her mouth.

Groaning, Guy grabbed her by her arms and pushed her down to the bed, feeling her arm sticky beneath his grip. He laid on top of her, kissing at her neck as he felt her hand find his. She laced her fingers on top of his, guiding his hand between their heaving bodies. His touch traveled to her breast as she moved his hand over its roundness, teasing against her hardened nipple. Then lower along her side to her hip, where she began to move his hand between her thighs. Her wounded arm rubbed against him as she controlled his hand, her blood warm and slick on his arm, her womanhood warm and slick under his touch.

Her hand left his between her legs and ran along his cock, her touch damp as she brought him into her. Everything was deliciously wet. His kisses traveled along her shoulder to her bleeding upper arm, and he began kissing away the red stains on her skin—her blood almost salty to the taste.

With his hand, Guy spread her legs wider, and Catrine felt him slide even deeper within her. He sat up from her body kneeling between her legs, her brown eyes pleading for him to take her, almost devastated that he hadn't started. Grabbing her hips, he pulled her entire body closer, and he filled her even more. She tightened her muscles around his cock within her, "Guy," she moaned.

He pulled her even higher on his thighs between her widespread legs, laughing harshly as he watched the bright red stain spreading along the white linen under her arm. "Beg," he growled, "Beg for my mercy."

Catrine's shaking breath caught in her throat as she inhaled deeply, "Take me," she panted, "I beg you, Guy."

And with that, he began thrusting into her, repeatedly driving as deeply within her as he could. She moaned with each thrust, her blood racing and flooding every vein in her body, and she could feel her arm sticking to the sheets soaked in blood. Her hips began to slide away from him from his force, but Guy just pulled her closer, bracing against her hips. His grey eyes flickered over her every inch, his lips sneered back as his breath came heavily and uneven, harsh and forced from his desire.

Catrine whined with his thrusts now, too deep and agonizing, her face wincing in pain. "Guy, please," she begged again, "faster." Guy sniffed and narrowed his gaze a bit, lowering himself on top of her instead. His hands barely touched long her side, running up her from her hips and finally gripping her upper arm with a snarl. He felt blood oozing slightly from her scratch, dripping between his fingers and pooling in his palm.

He thrusted deep into her as quickly as he could, and Catrine lost herself in bliss, uncontrollable and involuntary as if her body was not her own. She could hear herself breathing, moaning and crying out in pleasure; she could feel her hands wandering up the throbbing muscles of his arms; and she could sense her back and hips arching, rocking under Guy's every thrust. Each sense tingled, each nerve blazing on fire. His hand tightened on her wound, sending a spark of pain through her body. But the pain was soon swallowed up in a flood of pleasure and of heat; Catrine heard herself scream.

After a moment, she seemed to be returning to her senses and to her body, her breath and her movements becoming more controlled. She looked up at Guy, his grey eyes staring intently into her own, his fingers trembling as they gripped her arm. Catrine then realized her fingers dug into his arms just beneath his shoulder, his skin red and scratched beneath her nails. She released her grip, and Guy released his, his hand sticking slightly to her bloodied skin as he pulled away.

His hardness still pressed within her, and Catrine laughed, feeling Guy shudder as she brought her legs together beneath him, squeezing his cock tighter inside her. He pulled out with a soft chuckle, moving to the mattress beside her unwounded arm. Propping himself up on his side, he laughed looking at the bloodied sheets on the other side of her, "Seems you've made quite a mess." And Catrine laughed as she looked over Guy's naked body, splatters and stains of her blood scattered over his own skin, up his arm, over his chest, down his front and even between his thighs.

"I like to leave my mark where I can," she commented slyly, tracing over the spots of drying blood on his body. Guy closed his eyes and wrapped his arm around her to bring her head to his chest. Catrine shuddered as she listened to his heart beating, his own blood still pounding from ecstasy.

Blood. Catrine closed her eyes where she lay across his body. So often, she and Guy had been splattered with blood before, by design and by accident. In the castle and in the home. Even from a simple prick on the finger by an embroidery needle. Catrine took a deep breath and clung tighter to Guy, feeling him do the same to her in his arms. Blood meant death, blood meant pain, and now Catrine hoped that she would not see her own blood again. Not until she bled giving birth to a new life.


	14. Chapter 14

Another full moon shone down from the cold, starry night sky, and Catrine took a deep breath, feeling at her lower stomach as she looked up to the sky above the castle steps into the courtyard.

One month, and here she stood in Nottingham Castle once more, her banishment ended.

One month and still no blood.

Catrine yawned as she walked towards the steps leading down to her horse, held steady at the reins by one of Guy's men. She pulled her fur cloak around her, the autumn nights growing colder and colder as winter approached. Mentally, she began counting down the last few days of sun before the winter rains would begin, cold and sleety. Only a few days left to prepare Locksley for winter, Catrine thought with a smile. Since her banishment from the castle, she had grown even fonder of the town's rolling hills and the manor's warm and loving walls.

Footsteps echoed behind her, and Catrine paused just before the first step. "Is there something more I can do for you, my lord Sheriff?" she asked, not even needing to turn around to know to whom the footfall belonged.

"I see your keenness hasn't diminished in your time away, my lady," he mumbled behind her.

Catrine turned, seeing his balding head and dark face smiling at her in the moonlight, "Not a bit, Sheriff."

"I trust that you enjoyed your return to the castle? I know your husband was more than eager to have you back, working… beneath… him," his voice teased her.

Catrine snickered at his comment, choosing not to reply to his obviously true observation, and turning around to walk down the stairs.

The Sheriff caught her hand from her side, "Well, now that you're back, my dear, you will think of a way to help keep the castle from starving, won't you? I'm counting on your brilliant mind again, my lovely."

"I will think about it, Sheriff," Catrine replied as she straightened herself tall, gently releasing her hand from his.

"Good," the Sheriff smiled, "You know, Lady Gisborne, you may have disobeyed me, but you have never disappointed me."

"Thank you, Sheriff. But I also wanted to inform you that I will be spending a good deal more time at home in Locksley, in all hopefulness," Catrine smiled, her hand wandering unknowingly to her stomach.

A quizzical look on his face, the Sheriff cocked his head at her smile, then he looked to where her hand rested, "Is there… something wrong, Lady Gisborne?" he asked, pointing to her stance.

Catrine looked down, a smirk crossing her face, "Oh, no my lord Sheriff. I'm afraid I'm just simply famished from today's work. Sir Guy and I have our meal waiting for our return, so if you will excuse us, my lord…" she dipped a slight curtsey and moved quickly down the stairs to her horse.

She smiled as she looked over towards the gate—Guy sat astride on his horse already, waiting for her to ride back to Locksley. Quickly mounting, she rode up alongside him and threw him a beaming smile.

"Happy to be back at the castle?" he asked, riding as close to her as his horse would allow.

Catrine chuckled, "Actually, I'm happier to be returning home." Guy looked utterly surprised at her answer, and Catrine laughed out loud. "Perhaps I make a better mistress of Locksley than I thought I would."

"Not any better than I thought you would," Guy commented, gently reaching over and touching her cheek as they rode. "Mistress of Locksley," Guy laughed, "I suppose that title includes many duties."

"Yes," Catrine laughed as well, "Embroidery for one… meal planning for another," she looked at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes, "spying in disguise… weapon sharpening… that's one of my favorites." Guy laughed at her growing list, and Catrine continued with a smirk, "Saving the manor from winter's gnawing hunger, and of course… warm welcomings." She smiled, biting her lower lip slowly as she looked into his grey eyes, "Those are my specialty."

"Well then, mistress of Locksley," Guy smirked from where he rode beside her, "I think it's high time I supervised your duties, particularly your specialty."

"Of course, my lord," she laughed, riding even as she felt his hand rest on her knee closest to him, and she looked up to the full moon with a smile.

* * *

_Author's Note- I hope you've enjoyed my story, and thank you for reading. To read on further about Guy, Catrine and her pregnancy I refer you to chapter 35 of "A Hero's Prologue." _

_Next up on my writing docket: an inserted episode to season two, called "The Eyes Have It." Happy reading :)_


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